A Day in Gehenna
by Wondermoon
Summary: How it would be a day in Gehenna realm for Bruce and Diana. Issues #39 and #40 of Batman. BMWW.


Here is another one-shot, something that occurred to me from nowhere. I always read about how it would be after issues # 39 and # 40 for Bruce and Diana but I wanted to think about what it would be like one day in all that time they spent together in that realm so ... I hope you tell me what you think, Without more to say, enjoy.

Ah, it's always good to say that I don't own the characters that belong to DC comics. And sorry for grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language.

From the beginning of time, when we were relatively young, Bruce and I had established a strange but good relationship that over time became a friendship based on mutual respect and trust. Many battles had been won alongside him, his skills as a warrior impressing me knowing that he was simply a human under the mask, a mortal with a capacity for self-control and dedication to surpass that of the best heroes in the world, his strenuous consecration to a mission that for many it would be suicidal, a mission that demanded too much of him, every day and every second of his time consuming his soul without giving him rest. And his mind ... his brilliant mind, which so fascinated my young and naive self in the first years in the world of men, an inexhaustible source of knowledge and ingenuity for a simple mortal man who made him the great and fearsome Batman, men's nightmare.

I never knew very well why Bruce, so suspicious and cynical of everything, had decided to trust me as his friend, his equal. Perhaps by my own wisdom and dedication to my own mission of spreading love and doing good in the world with the pure honesty that characterized me. Perhaps because of the fact that we both understood the real and crude nature of the battle and even though I was one of the most powerful metahumans in the universe, my power came not only from my gifts from the Gods, but from my arduous training and dedication, just like him. Perhaps it was because of the complicated and inexplicable balance that we both had inside between light and darkness, that inner battle that we knew very well but not many understood.

While my character leaned more towards the light and my upbringing had taught me that love was everything, being a warrior also implied a certain darkness, hurting to reach good. And as for Bruce's character, dark and dangerous, guided by resentment and the pain of a terrible loss inclined him into darkness, his mission, however violent and exterminating, it had a certain light, small or almost nonexistent, that it led to depositing that hatred in doing good and not destroying lives as their enemies did in Gotham.

However, the possibility that something more than friendship between us could arise had been quickly and painfully disqualified a long time ago, our natures too different to endure without creating changes in the other, and those natures, love and revenge, were the basis of our missions with the world and we couldn't allow them to change. So we settle for our friendship, solidified over time.

Until we agreed to come here, Gehenna, kingdom of endless monsters created by the sins of men.

The hordes were everlasting, the days getting heavier, our bones and joints screaming in the endless and inhuman effort to keep the monsters at bay from the outside world. The weight of the fight was increasingly overwhelming over the years and the only thing that kept us standing was ourselves, the support of one warrior to another warrior and the promise that maybe, just maybe one day we would return to see our loved ones, friends and family.

That night by the fire the temptation to give in to loneliness and to the feelings deeply buried after years and believed forgotten had been a true test for both of us. And with those words, daggers into a lonely and yearning heart like mine, we had accepted that it would never happen, that now our hearts belonged to someone else, good people we loved and who didn't deserve to be hurt like that.

We could never touch each other but that did not mean that we could not secretly want it, a platonic fantasy fueled by the lack of emotional and bodily affection.

The last 37 hours had been strenuous, the hordes had not allowed us a single respite and by the time we finished with the last monster our bodies trembled with effort and our muscles screamed in agony. There was no part of us that did not stink thanks to the mixture of sweat, blood and entrails that the previous massacre had spilled on our bodies. Now that I thought about it, we hadn't had a proper bath in several weeks, taking advantage of the little time we had to sleep.

My body demanded a good cleaning and it was time I gave it to myself no matter how tired I was. And also Bruce, who I could hardly distinguish between his clothes and his skin.

"I know you're probably thinking of resting but we desperately need a bath, it's been weeks" I mutter heartily, digging up my sword from the still warm hideous body.

"I know, you stink terribly" Bruce replies, removing the helmet from his head letting me see his bruised face and exhausted blue eyes, a long beard of several weeks covering his attractive chin.

"Look who says it" I smile slightly at his attempt to lighten the deplorable situation in which we find ourselves. "If you don't shave your beard, fleas will start to be born soon." And I can't help laughing at his slight shudder.

Slowly we make our way to the cave that has given us refuge these last 4 or 5 years, analyzing with the movement the damages that we have received in our last battle. I can barely lean on my left foot and I see that Bruce shrinks with each intake of breath, indicating a pair of bruised ribs. I just hope they are not cracked or broken.

The cave was the termination of a rocky ledge eroded by time located on the edge of a high plateau that we had found in one of our expeditions, large enough for both of us and closed enough to protect us from strong winds and rains. For that reason and because a couple of meters to the right we had a large waterfall of clean water we had decided to stay and make it our "home".

When Bruce arrived, he soon collapsed on the hard ground, growling at the impact.

"Let me help you" I whisper as I approach and he nods. First I make sure to lean our swords against the cave wall, making a mental note of sharpening them later. Then I help him to sit down and little by little I begin to take off his armor, depositing it's parts near the entrance to take them with me to the waterfall and wash the stick. Finally I take off his worn black shirt that he wears underneath, bored with so much use.

My eyes wander without shame on his marked chest, accustomed to looking for wounds to heal and I try not to shudder at the great violet bruise that runs along Bruce's left side. But after so many years we have learned to read each other completely, every expression, every gesture, every tone ...

"Don't worry, it's just a blow" he assures me in a grunt to calm my worry.

"Bruce ..." I try to argue but he cuts me with a final tone.

"Believe me when I tell you that I know when a rib is broken." I nod insecurely, although I know better than to start an argument with a tired, hungry and aching Bruce.

"I'll be in the waterfalls then" I announce, getting up and taking the armor with me. Bruce nods with his eyes closed as he lies on the wall.

"The fire will be on when you return." He says and I turn to leave and let him rest.

The nearest waterfall is just a couple of meters to the right of the cave, completely visible from the entrance.

I drop to the ground, deposit the black armor to my side and rest for a while. I like to sit here when I have the time and close my eyes to hear the murmur of water falling against the rock as a method of meditation. My tormented mind can't help flying to the past when I used to rest in the shade of a tree next to the magnificent Themysciran waterfalls or the sound of the tap running in my bathtub after a long day saving the world ... but soon I awake from my trance thanks to the arid wind that brings with it the rot smell of the bestial bodies killed.

I sigh and take care to wash Bruce's armor trying to remove as much as I can the blood and dirt from the metal. But no matter how much I try my mind travels to the memories of my life on earth, my mother, the League, Steve ...

Oh Steve ... How much I miss him, his voice, his touch. What I would give for a few moments with him right now. For a few moments of any touch...

When I finish washing the armor and scrubbing Bruce's shirt I forbid myself from continuing to regret my loved ones, reminding me that it doesn't help me to be objective and that I am only hurting myself. Sooner or later I would have to learn to accept that this was my reality now and there was nothing I could do to change it and that probably everyone on earth, after so many years, had moved on with their lives.

I shake my head trying to push that thought away, now I just needed to focus on washing and resting for the next battle.

Slowly and carefully take off my boots, paying special attention to my sprained ankle, then I continue with my breastplate and finally drop all my armor to the floor, enjoying the sensation of the wind against my naked body. I do not delay in diving into the well and swimming to the waterfall.

Once there I climb a couple of rocks with little difficulty and I sit under the waterfall with a heavy heart, letting the force of the current massage my aching shoulders and take away all the filth of my hair and skin, the cold awakening my sleepy senses.

My eyes travel quickly to the entrance of the cave, responding to those who look hungry in my direction, dark with desire.

Bruce is at the entrance of the cave, one arm carrying firewood for the night fire and the other his ax, his beautiful strong face clean and freshly shaved. A stab of pent up desire attacks the lower part of my stomach letting me unbalanced.

We keep our eyes like this for a while, not knowing whether to be ashamed or to give in to the stormy sensation. And seeing how Bruce makes no move to leave I give up. At that moment I gave up. I needed this, we both needed it.

Slowly I stood in my place keeping his gaze, exposing my naked and wet body, his face slightly tightening.

A caress, an effervescent caress traversing every part of my body that his eyes devoured with hunger. Starting with my lips, slowly descending down my exposed neck, then my erect breasts, my tight stomach, my mound ... soft, then following my legs, my long legs. And then all the way up to my eyes again, his silently pleading for more, a little more before the guilt won.

Breathing through the lump in my throat I turn slowly exposing my back and lift my hair to rinse it with running water with gentle and sensual movements, continuing with my display and enjoying the fleeting lust of the moment.

Just once, just this one moment and nothing more, never again ... we were good, we would always be good but just for once, for this time we could afford to be selfish from afar.

We could never touch each other ... make these desires something real but this moment was ours, a small act of selfishness that we deserved after so much sacrifice, just a little of gratification...

Suddenly I feel like the intense heat inside me vanishes and I know that the moment is over, as fast and intense as it had come it had left me more alone than ever.

I look back and of course Bruce is gone, nothing but rocks and a hard and cold landscape in front of me. Lonely.

I don't know how long I stood there, letting the current take away the tears but when I returned to the cave, already dressed, a fire was lit, meat was roasting in it and the man who had been my partner and my friend was sitting by the fire sharpening his sword.

That night we ate in silence, not because of discomfort, but because of fatigue and slept back against back without nightmares until the everlasting hordes woke us up the next morning.

End.


End file.
